


restoration

by kissingonconey



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, warning: Donna starts off married to someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1366399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissingonconey/pseuds/kissingonconey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She shivered under his body, and they slid their legs together, hands fumbling at shoulders, like they were first loves on their first vacation. And then she realized that they were, and all this time, it had been a mistake that she was only now rectifying." H/D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	restoration

**Author's Note:**

> Repost, October 2012.

The thing Donna remembers most about that day is how her cry matched that of her youngest son’s, who was sprawled in the sunlight in the Park Slope front yard. Her husband, Jack, was picking him up and putting him back on his feet, but he clung to his father. Inside, Harvey still had his fingers encircled around her wrist.

That was five years into her marriage. Her oldest son, Alex, was four. The crying son was Michael, ostensibly not after Mike Ross (it’s a common name, she always told Mike, who had a permanent smirk which he seemed to have modeled after Harvey’s). That was five years after she gave up on pining her and Harvey down (in sheets, yes, but mostly in everything else).

“Listen,” she remembers saying. She remembers straining against her desire to push him into the magnets of her fridge. The only thing stopping her was the memories of those magnets, trinkets from Jack, pictures of the boys. “Listen. We can’t do that.”

Harvey was the same as he was on her wedding day. Tailored, perfect, so much more so than Jack. On her wedding day, she thought about it when they danced, and her dress was ivory, and she was gleaming, and she wished that he could see her spread out on the bed spread instead of Jack.

He looked at her body critically. “You can’t say you don’t want it.”

This was the first serious conversation about them since the wedding day.

She stepped closer—in hindsight not a good idea. “I am not a cheater.”

But Harvey’s kiss was the ache she felt in her chest when he smiled. It was the heat of his hand against her lower back, the thrill of exhilaration when they collaborated and then won a case, the secret of their can opener, the tear she cried right before she put on the wedding dress, the broadness of his shoulders that she always wanted to caress, the look in his eyes when she held his gaze just the right way. His kiss was her whole life, and it engulfed her.

When it ended, the look in his eyes was, strangely, the same one she saw when he had found out his father was dead: terrified.

“That bad, huh?” she quipped, while peering out the window to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, they were up in the rose-colored corner, right out of the sliver of the kitchen that could be seen through the window.

“No.”

“Harvey, if you ever, ever do that again, I—” She mustered enough anger to make it somewhat believable. “I got it,” he said.

He left without tasting a slice of Alex’s red velvet birthday cake, which she had bought from Harvey’s favorite bakery, as a thank you for coming.

*

She remembers that sometimes Alex and Michael would ask why Uncle Harvey didn’t come over any more. Jack would always defer to her. She would say that Uncle Harvey was busy at work. And then she would conjure up an image of him, back hunched, papers strewn, hair askew, working, so that she could believe it. And she would push away the guilt of not being there, even though she was still so much his, his secretary, she meant.

*

She remembers the first time she realized she wasn’t marrying Harvey. In the midst of all the wedding preparations, the cake, the flowers, the dress, the venue, the speeches, she stopped and looked at the ring on her finger and realized that this was not a ring that Harvey would have bought her.

She then flipped through her album of wedding preparations, and saw that, despite the wrongness of the ring, she had picked colors that matched her and Harvey (warm beige, cream, and mint), a month that matched them (November), and a price range that was all Harvey.

Donna had tried to make starting over fun. But of course, she was exhausted of wedding planning by that point, and the whole thing came out a little off. No one else noticed, but when she stepped into the aisle, she knew it was all wrong, and wished that she had just gone with a justice of peace.

The only good part was that Harvey wore his best suit and danced with her.

*

Alex was only eight, but maybe her and Harvey were more obvious than they should have been.

“Mom,” Alex said, “how come we spend all weekend with Uncle Harvey now?”

Donna shifted, eyes wide, chastising herself for feeling so cornered by her own son, who was asking an innocent question. No one had asked either her or Harvey why they were together so often; maybe everyone who mattered understood—or realized that her and Harvey were still navigating crossing all sorts of blurry lines (coworkers, boss and employee, best friends, surrogate uncle to her children), and might be for a very long time.

“Does it upset you?” she asked, reaching a hand out to stroke his hair.

For the first time in a while, he allowed her to reach for him and pull him into a hug.

“I miss Dad,” he said.

“I know, baby.”

“But Uncle Harvey is fun. He takes us out to baseball games and the park and stuff. And he’s really smart.”

“Yeah, he is.” She couldn’t help the tiny smile that framed the edges of her lips.

“I’ll always be able to see Dad, right?”

“Of course, honey, I would never keep you from seeing him.”

He nuzzled into the side of her neck, and she pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Is Uncle Harvey a good kisser?” he suddenly asked. “’Cause you know, he used to brag so much.”

“Alex!” she half-shrieked.

“Mo-om, I watch TV, you know.”

She smacked his forehead lightly. “Yeah, maybe I’m gonna have to cut some of that out of your schedule.”

“Yeah, right.” She laughed throatily, glad that her older son seemed alright with how the situation was going—she had made Harvey keep it slow for just that reason.

“Okay, go grab your brother,” she said. “We’re going out for ice cream.”

“Are you gonna call Uncle Harvey?”

“No, he’ll understand. I need some time with my boys,” Donna answered.

And he had understood.

*

The years between marriage and Alex still feel long to her, and she can’t quite remember what happened in her terms.

In Harvey terms: he stamped his name down with Pearson Specter, he dated a blonde for more than three weeks, he got Mike promoted to partner, he dated Zoe, he kept up all his traditions, he kept her as a secretary.

She can remember the ripples of each day, and how boring it was, because she couldn’t flirt or smile the wrong way or give him her everything everyday because of how it would seem. What it would say.

They won cases, though. And that meant long nights sometimes. And those are the nights that she can remember at least a little bit, when the light was low because they were the only ones in the office, except for Mike, and he was all the way on the other side. Her shoes were off. His tie was askew. She went in and out, bringing him files, marking files, highlighting files.

Sometimes he broke out brandy. Once it was wine, but she had to put a stop to that, because now she was married and responsible.

*

She remembers deciding Harvey wouldn’t be a natural. She knew Harvey was a wild card, who would prefer Africa to bedtime stories. But she also knew that the picture of family that he held in his heart was fierce, and that he was protective, and that he would try his best to find balance for her.

She decided she would find balance for him too. She never was just a homemaker, and she made promises to herself (scuba diving off the coast of Thailand, Eiffel Tower, road trips, millions of books she wants to read, square plates never round, always working late for the sake of success, experimentation in the kitchen) that she decided to keep.

Besides, she wanted to teach Alex and Michael how to be awesome.

*

The reason she cried alongside Michael that day was not because Harvey wanted to whisk her away for a night of passion. It was because he had looked at her and said, “Donna, I need you, I can’t be me without you,” again. But this time she was there, permanently seated outside his office. So it was a different kind of need and want, and she was pretty sure that was as close as he could get to saying “I love you.”

*

Donna remembers when Alex was born. She remembers being sore. She remembers all the flowers that people sent her. She remembers how hard it was to breastfeed, and how she didn’t feel sexy at all (which was a feeling she hadn’t felt since she was fifteen and still learning how to use her red hair to her advantage). She remembers that her little boy was wrinkly and ugly, and that she loved him horribly. That her chest ached when she saw him.

Jack left her alone for a few hours at a time. It was good. She needed the time to herself.

Harvey was her first visitor. “Congratulations,” he said, holding a large purple bear with clumsy fingers.

“Purple? Harvey, he’s a boy.”

“Never thought you were one for gender stereotypes. Besides, he’s for you.”

This made her cry, because no one had been talking about her lately, they’d all been talking about Alex, and despite how much she loved her baby, she couldn’t help but love Harvey for thinking of her.

“Hey,” he said, startled.

“Thanks,” she choked out.

He sat on the chair by her bed. “I saw Alex in the nursery. He looks good.”

“No red hair,” she murmured.

“Too bad,” he said. “I like red hair.” Pause, then: “Hey, Donna.”

“What?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“’Cause I pushed him out?”

He took her hand, traced a knuckle. “You’re going to be a good mom. You’ve had practice with Mike.”

She thought that Harvey could be a very good dad if he tried. That he would take his children to baseball games, would help with homework, would go to ballet recitals if necessary, would joke about his children being Democratic or gay or hippies but would support them either way, would always hold their hands when they were learning to walk.

Donna pushed away the thought that they would make very good parents together. She concentrated on Jack, who eventually did walk in, with a teddy bear for Alex.

*

The outfit Donna wore when she was finally free, was green and low-cut, and it showed off the freckles on her chest. She wanted Harvey to count those freckles, first with his eyes, then his nose, then his mouth.

She didn’t strut this time, rather walked with grace, and arrived five minutes before Harvey.

Five minutes later, his lips curved upwards as he traced the curve of her shoulder into the dip of her blouse. But finally his eyes met hers, and she knew that he was letting them breathe all the happiness he felt, because she could feel that same happiness low in her belly.

“Hi,” he said, and walked to her side of the desk.

Surprised, she pressed back against the chair, but he simply moved forward to touch her sleeve.

“This is nice. Did I buy it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Or, Harriet Specter did anyway.”

He lowered his mouth closer to her ear, and gently moved her hair away from the shell of her ear. She watched frantically for any associate or partner or Jessica to walk by. But he had picked the opportune moment.

“Fit for a queen,” he whispered, and then moved away.

She pressed her thighs together, and was sure he noticed.

*

Her best memory with Jack includes the two babies. Alex was hugging the arm of the couch, letting his popcorn bowl dangle. Donna didn’t scold; she let him have his moment. Michael was tucked into her lap, eyes closing, sweet baby breath blowing onto her arm.

Her legs were pressed against Jack’s. They were a family.

She thought about all the game nights they would share (she knew Jack would get them onto Monopoly soon, to teach them how to work with money), the vacations she would want to go on first (out to the country for fresh air, but definitely Disney World soon), the major events they would all be a part of (Alex’s prom suddenly felt incredibly soon).

“I love you,” Alex suddenly babbled. Donna didn’t know who he was referring to, but she smiled.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” she said, and then thought that Harvey had been right, and that she was a good mother.

Then she felt guilty of thinking about Harvey, and how the minute she had thought it, her eyes had strayed to her phone.

That night she tucked her boys in, and made sure that the blankets covered them completely. She arranged the stuffed animals just right, and pulled the curtains extra tight. She adjusted the night light and reminded them to have sweet dreams enough times to make Alex ask her to go away so he could sleep.

When she closed the door to their room, she clutched at her pajamas, unsure of what to do. Then she made her way to Jack and her room. They made love.

If she thinks it about it too hard, she realizes that it was ugly. Jack’s chest hair was thick. Her legs were unshaven. Their breaths weren’t the right scent of mint. But in the moment, she felt like she had made a family. She was proud. She didn’t feel restless, or like going to work.

Jack snored beside her, and she busied herself with thinking about what she wanted to improve in the house. She thought of paint samples.

*

Strangely, her best memory with Harvey and the boys is at the Bronx Zoo. Harvey bought them ice cream cones, as they passed the elephants. She itched to clean the chocolate off of Michael’s mouth, but restrained herself, more content with watching the boys laugh with Harvey.

“This is the best,” Michael suddenly proclaimed. “Thanks, Uncle Harvey.”

Harvey shifted his feet. “I’m glad you like it, Michael. But, you know, you don’t have to call me Uncle Harvey anymore.”

Donna closed her eyes immediately, worried about the fall-out of this little comment.

“Yeah,” Alex said, eight-year-old-voice strong and commanding, “’cause he’s not our real uncle, Michael. He’s not like Mom’s brother, Uncle Kevin.”

“How come we did before though?”

“Be _cause_ he wasn’t gonna be our new dad then,” Alex said matter-of-factly.

“Whoa,” Donna said, and Harvey looked just as shocked. “I’m not marrying anyone right now, Alex.”

They stopped in front of the flamingos and all stared at each other for a minute. Tourists chattered around them.

“But he said he loves you,” Alex said.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. “Do you hear everything?”

“Uh, no?”

Harvey started laughing then, large, bellowing laughs, that even after all the years she rarely heard.

“Alright, boys, here’s what we’re going to do. You call me Harvey, and I’ll call you Alex and Michael, and you can call this lady here, Mom, and I’ll call her Donna, or Beautiful, depending on my mood” (she slapped his arm) “and that’ll be it. And yeah, Alex, I love your Mom, but we love you guys the best, so we’re always going to make sure you two are happy. Does that work?”

Michael still looked somewhat distrustful, but nodded slowly. Alex looked putout that his theory hadn’t been completely right.

“Can we go see the tigers?” Donna sighed.

“Hang on, you forgot the obligatory hug, Beautiful. You always have to have one after a serious talk.”

“Harvey! Don’t call me that.”

“But you’re pretty, Mom,” Michael said.

“Thanks, sweetheart, but it’s really silly that Harvey calls me that—”

He had pulled her into a hug then, her chin resting on his shoulder, and then stuck out another arm to let the boys in. She could feel their little bodies squirming against her hip, but his breath in her ear distracted her.

“Don’t worry, Donna, it’ll be fine.”

She nodded, hair flying into his face. “Okay.”

Later she realized that there were chocolate handprints all over Harvey’s back, but he smirked and said that was his payment for a happy family.

*

When she told Harvey it was serious, there was no ring on her finger. But she felt like he had a right to know.

She did it wrong though. She staged a scene, because that was what she was good at.

“I think he might propose,” Donna gushed to Rachel.

Louis walked up, his face lighting up. “Really?”

Shit, Donna thought.

“That’s great,” Rachel said. “You’ll have to have a spring wedding.”

“He’d like that,” Donna remarked.

“You better let me help plan,” Louis said. Both women ignored him.

“Plan what?” Harvey asked from behind them. But when Donna turned, she knew that he had heard the whole thing. His jaw was rigid, his posture was frustrated. “Actually, Donna, can I speak to you in my office?”

Louis and Rachel exchanged looks. Donna hoped she wasn’t as obvious as Harvey.

“Sure,” she muttered, and trailed after him. He sat, assuming a position of power, as he always did.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” he said.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Preemptively, congratulations. Don’t make me your maid-of-honor.”

“As if,” she whispered, turned, and walked out.

She could see him though, and she could see that he was hurting. The rigidity didn’t leave his body until hours later, when Mike came in and told a joke and praised Harvey and did all the things that Mike did to make Harvey feel better—which used to be Donna’s job.

At the same time, she believed she had done the right thing. That he would have the time to heal between then and the wedding, and that the engagement ring wouldn’t be a shock. The problem was, Harvey was better at pretending than healing.

*

She remembers the one time she cheated. She did it right, in a cheap motel room, where she was somewhat afraid of bed bugs crawling all over her. Donna figured that would be just punishment.

The tequila was buzzing around her unpleasantly, and she had to concentrate to make sure that she didn’t vomit. She was glad that her partner wasn’t interested in much foreplay.

In the drunken haze, she let herself ignore all the ideas of Jack in her head, and let Harvey bubble to the surface. His skin on hers, his lips on hers, his hair in between her fingers.

She screamed his name, again and again, while the man cried out for Penny.

This is not normal, she thought. This is not catharsis. This is—

The man bit down hard on her shoulder.

She pretended Harvey’s tongue was soothing the pain, swirling into the depressions left by white, chomping teeth.

Afterwards, they lay together for an hour. Neither did this often, and now they were left counting holes in the ceiling until they felt comfortable. She wished, suddenly, that she had just slept with Harvey that time after he basically told her he loved her in her kitchen, because now she was a cheater and she would much rather cheat with Harvey than this man.

Or maybe she didn’t want to cheat with Harvey, she just wanted to be with him.

Either way, she dressed carefully, making sure nothing seems out of place. She slipped the perfume out of her bag and sprayed to cover up any cologne.

“Hey,” the man said, “can you spray that over there? I don’t want my wife to smell anything.”

“Sorry,” she said.

She knew what Harvey and her perfume smelled like together even then.

*

She let Harvey take her away after she ended it. He’d been waiting for so long, it was only fair.

It was just a bed and breakfast in Connecticut; close enough for them to get back to work on Monday without any trouble.

It was snowing, the pine trees were covered, and drooping, and the drive over had been a little worrisome.

“All I can see is your hair,” he said, when she stepped out of the car, into the blinding mist of snowflakes.

“You know,” she said, “I’ve always wanted to be kissed in the snow.”

“Really?” he drawled.

“Yeah.”

And then, without knowing why, she sprang off, away from the car, into the large field that accompanied their weekend residence. She sunk into the snow slightly, and tripped, and once she threw her head around, she knew that he was following, a surprised, but playful grin on his face.

The second time she tripped it was too hard, and she fell into the snow, gasping with laughter. Moments later he slammed down next to her, and his hot breath peppered her face, as he began to kiss her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her temple, and finally, her lips.

She shivered under his body, and they slid their legs together, hands fumbling at shoulders, like they were first loves on their first vacation. And then she realized that they were, and all this time, it had been a mistake that she was only now rectifying.

“My shoulder hurts,” he grumbled when they’d finally finished, and lay panting next to each other.

“I’ll massage it,” she promised. “Although I’m sure there are a couple other places that need to be worked on too.”

He growled and seized her lips one last time.

*

Because she has always been organized, she made a pro-con list for the divorce.

Pros: her boys having a family, security, not breaking Jack’s heart (or her parents’ for that matter), retaining the slight bit of affection she still feels for him.

Cons: she’s tired of this life, she can never give herself up to Jack, she doesn’t want her marriage to deteriorate in front of her boys’ eyes, she might be in love with someone else.

Secretly, she made a pro-con list for Harvey. Just to see. Harvey’s pros bled into his cons, and vice versa. Inseparable.

Her mother used to say that teenage Donna would know love when she thought every pimple on her boyfriend’s face was beautiful. Donna never thought that, and never got it. Harvey has moles and scars and bad habits. She thinks they are lovely.

This all in itself was a con for marriage, but she didn’t know how to list it, but she tore up all the lists and made a decision.

*

Donna remembers Chicago with Harvey. They didn’t go on business trips often, but this was an important client who would be coming to trial in New York. Harvey didn’t want to go without her. Donna wasn’t sure what kind of a ploy that was, wasn’t sure if he was cluing in to her marital troubles and trying to move in or just trying to get her mind off of it.

Before she left, she made sure she had prepared meals for the next two days, left copious amounts of emergency numbers, and kissed her children again and again. Jack thought she was ridiculous. She thought she was being sensible.

Their hotel room was a beautiful place, adjoining, shared bathroom. She was a little surprised by the set-up, but didn’t complain.

“You have to have breakfast with Garretson tomorrow,” Donna informed Harvey. “You’ll want to go over the paperwork tonight.”

He sighed. “I’m going to shower first. Get the plane grime off me.”

“You do know that’s not a thing, right?”

“Get out of here,” he said.

She unpacked her suitcase methodically, mentally cataloguing everything she had, until she heard the shower turn off. Her arms full with shampoo, soap, and a demure pair of oversized shorts and a Mets t-shirt, she stepped into his room, where the bathroom was.

“Go right ahead,” he smiled when he saw her.

“Thanks.” She paused in the intimacy of the moment—sharing a bathroom—steeled herself, and then walked in.

She learned that Harvey liked hot showers. The steam was still settled on the mirror. The bathmat was a little damp, but not unpleasantly so. She stripped quickly, before realizing that, despite the steam, she really was alone.

Donna remembers looking at herself in the mirror, tracing lines on her face, the scar on her stomach. She didn’t look old, but she felt it, and the imperfections stood out. She could hear Harvey on the other side of the door, opening and closing his suitcase, then the minifridge.

Eventually she stepped into the shower, and the air was hot and thick around her, and she realized that Harvey had just been in that space, naked.

Was it like touching skin to skin, she wondered, if you stood in the same air? If the same air made the same goosebumps on your arms?

She turned the water on, and ignored his shampoo sitting on the side of tub. She used her own shampoo, scrubbed at the hairline on her neck, turned the water hot enough to turn her pink, felt little grains of mascara on her hands, she got rid of it all. She looked like a poorly formed sunrise when she got out—new, but not bright enough.

He looked at her like she was the sun, hot and sparking.

Later she came back into his room, files in hand. He handed her a glass of wine, which she silently accepted, appreciated, and set down. Her head was buzzing already. She wasn’t sure that she needed anything more.

For a while they perused in silence, but it was a boring case. The client required special attention, but the case would be simple. His fingers came to rest on her side, and her heart jumped, wondering if this was the moment. But as he poked and prodded her, almost like one of her bored sons, she found herself rolling around his bed, laughing. One of her limbs extended too far, and the wine went tumbling, which sent them into greater hysterics.

When they both grew tired, she leaned her head on his shoulder. He tucked her into his side. She controlled her breathing, but couldn’t help her leg from curling towards his.

“Glad you’re here,” he said sleepily.

“Glad you invited me.”

“You staying here?”

“You mind?”

He pulled her closer, and she realized that he had already told her he loved her in his own way, and that she didn’t need to pretend with him anymore. They fell asleep together, scandalous as it was.

It was the light on her face that woke her, and when she saw that he was still asleep, she decided not to pull away. They left for minutes more, before he kissed her shoulder, and she shivered, and the business trip went on as planned.

*

She remembers telling everyone about the divorce.

She told Rachel: “Sometimes marriage just doesn’t work out. You and Mike are lucky” (here she pointed to the glinting engagement ring) “but Jack and I had too many differences. Don’t take this as a sign.”

Rachel told Donna: “I get it. I know.”

Donna told Jessica: “If you don’t mind, I just need a few days off. I know it’s Harvey’s job to give them to me, but could you please make sure that he doesn’t run himself ragged while I’m gone? I know him, and I really don’t want to come back to his messes.”

Jessica told Donna: “I’ll take care of it. Take care of yourself.”

Donna told Louis: “The ring coming off doesn’t mean you can make a pass.”

Louis told Donna: “You think I want to face Harvey’s wrath? He hasn’t made a joke about my wife for twelve days and three hours.”

Donna told her mother: “I’m scared, Mom, but I feel like I’m doing the right thing. I just hope Alex and Michael don’t hate me. God, you always want to do the right thing for them, don’t you, and you just feel bad doing the right thing for yourself.”

Her mother told Donna: “If you’ll be happier, you’ll be doing the right thing for them. They love you, Donna.”

Donna told Jack: “I can’t do this anymore. You’ve been so great, but this life is not the life that I planned out. I just, I wanted to stay exciting and enjoy everything. I didn’t want to be stuck. I love our family, but I think family can be different—I think that family means love, not being stuck.”

Jack told Donna: “Okay. I love you so much, but okay.”

Donna told Alex, who was seven: “I don’t want you to worry. This was not about you or your brother. You will see your father all the time, and we can still do things together. Your father and I are friends still. Just not…just not best friends anymore” (she didn’t like lying, because Harvey has always been her best friend, and maybe that was really where she went wrong) “so are you okay with that?”

Alex told Donna: “Dan’s mom and dad didn’t love each other anymore either.”

Donna told Michael, who was five: “I love you, okay?”

Michael told Donna: “Love you too, mommy.”

Donna told Harvey: “I ended it.”

Harvey told Donna: “I trust you.”

Donna told Donna: “This is good. This is right.”

*

She remembers the first time they really made love. He brought her back to his place, and she lit candles. It looked doubly as beautiful when they reflected in the windows.

They stripped silently, until they turned and bared themselves to each other. His smile widened, and she let hers do the same.

He beckoned her closer, and she stepped into his embrace, as he kissed the side of her neck, and tangled his hands in her hair. He drew a map on her body with his mouth. Peaks and valleys, rivers and even towns. On her heart he kissed “Manhattan” and “Harvey,” but maybe he didn’t know that, but she did, deep inside her, in the soles of feet and in the swing of her stomach when he looked at her.

It was strange how he knew what she wanted, as if all of those years watching her had unveiled even her most primal secrets.

When he finally slid inside her, he brought her crashing down with words.

“I love you, Donna,” he said, and she closed her eyes and let herself spin out of control.

*

She knows it won’t be easy.

As he tucks Alex and Michael in and tucks a hand around her waist to kiss her, she knows that as much as they all love each other, things won’t stay simple.

They aren’t simple people. They don’t have simple lives.

But they’ve—she’s—made mistakes that she thought she might never come away from, and here they are.

They prod each other along, and sometimes, when it’s hard, she presses her face against the glass walls of his—their—apartment, until he comes along, and blows a hot kiss onto her shoulder, and reminds her that their boys are waiting and that work needs to be done, and he is here, because he cannot be anywhere else.


End file.
